


The Invisible Toon

by orphan_account, Sugar_Plum_Sweet (orphan_account)



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alcohol, And cigarettes were introduced to America in the 20th century!, And if it's really bad they go invisible, And the main story takes place in the 50's, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Detective Noir (kinda), Every chapter ending in 5 and 0 is an interlude, Excessive Drinking, General invisible shenanigans, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Invisibility, It's classified as being moderate ODD - and he's been working on it, Lying and being bad at it, Marshmallow fluff did exist in the 1950's, News Reporter, Night Terrors, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Or they get traumatized they bleach in colour, Other, Out of Character, Past Child Abuse, Plummy and I had an idea, The Invisible toon has ODD, The childhood portion takes place in the 20's, The teen portion takes place in the 30's, There's a very specific number relating to the invisible toon, There's only like two totally invisible toons ever, Two chapters in one day? It's a miracle!, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Where if a toon is hurt physically or mentally, hence, or a memory perhaps ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Sugar_Plum_Sweet
Summary: You can't catch a break, or sleep at night anymore. That's your free time, that's when you can go downstairs and go get food, because John is out of the house and Mary is asleep. Jane won't turn you in even if she's awake, because Jane likes you. Because you're both kids.But you're not a kid, you haven't been a kid in thirty years. So why haven't you become visible again, even if you would be completely bleached of pigment?
Relationships: Alice Angel/Miss Twisted (Bendy and the Ink Machine)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	1. You go home.

**Author's Note:**

> Really this entire thing spawned from Plummy and I having a discord convo that was along the lines of "hey wanna make a fic to see how bad we can hurt these characters" "sure lol"
> 
> We are so sorry for this but also god writing this dude is so fun. (I'm the writer and Plummy's editing/giving content for me to write)

You are thirty eight years old. Your name is ⬛ O' Donnell _(the last name was gifted to you by your foster parents in 1922, when you were still a baby.)_ You are a news reporter, one of the best. You are invisible. People think it's odd, because most toons aren't invisible. Or at least, not _entirely_. Some will have patches of invisibility, like on their hands or feet, but for as long as you've been alive, you've been... like this.

Actually, that's a lie. The baby pictures prove it.

You were a normal toon, black and white once, but since the day you turned four, you began to blanche. The process was slow, but you first noticed it then, when you looked in the mirror and noticed that your knees had gone from a deep ink colour to a dark Davy's gray. You didn't know why your knees turned first, not then. But you know now, as you idly flip through an old newspaper, passing the Sunday funnies entirely. _People are watching you._

The people on the train are staring at you, eyes wide and mouths agape. You probably shouldn't be smoking in here. You put out your cigarette on your glove.

It burns but that keeps the coldness in your limbs at bay, plus, it's a learned response, not to flinch away.

You go back to the paper, it's got one of your articles in it, and reading through those always serves as a nice little ego boost. Your editor always likened you to a great huge dog with a heart of marshmallow fluff. The thought of all that sugar makes your head spin. He says it's a compliment, and that he's trying to say you're sweet and innocent. 

_You're neither of those things._

You are fire, hot and angry, you are coffee, bitter and dark, you are so very very hurt.

You pick up your briefcase, tuck your newspaper under your arm, tip your hat to the small child staring up at you, and you walk off at your stop.

 **Bouillonburg** , proclaims a sign at the _(frankly overcrowded)_ train station. All of these people have something to do, be it a daily commute or if they're lucky, a vacation. You do not afford yourself such luxuries, and so you weave through the crowd and through the terminals filled with staff who are equal parts impassive and gossipy. Gossip is only good if it's a lead, and it so rarely is. They all just want to get home on time, as Thanksgiving, colder weather, the new year, and the capitalistic hell-holiday known as Christmas were looming close.

All you could think about was how much you hated the cold. And the snow. And a lot of things really.

You're just a little ray of _pitch **fucking** black,_ which is highly ironic, all things considered.

The terminal is a maze, full of people in bulky coats and brimmed hats, who pushed against you like a wave. You learned how to fight the crowd of oncoming foot traffic well though, so you tip your hat again, this time towards an overworked young cat toon who gives you the side eye and then you leave, knowing you just gave her something to chatter about with her co-workers.

You don’t care about that. You never do.

The snow crunches under your _(somewhat high heeled - yes you like the look)_ boots as you leave the terminal, making your way down the streets and to the very small, very dingy apartment you lovingly call home. Well, you don’t actually do that because that’s dumb as hell, but if you had any less dignity you probably would. You're not there yet though, not even close, and the sun is setting, so you have to pick up the pace.

A flurry of cold wind hits you and your large, long coat billows in the wind, allowing people to see your suit pants and crisp button-up shirt, and your see through nature which couldn't be hidden even if you wanted to hide it. Not that you want to anymore. You spent far too long doing that, and now your invisibility is literally your namesake.

As you walk through the snow you bundle yourself up, as naturally, the cold is unpleasant. But everything about winter is generally kind of unpleasant to you. 

You keep your head low and gaze turned down as you get closer to the complex you live in. Punching in your card is a one and done thing, and you stash it in your pocket as soon as you can, before practically sprinting up the stairs, and down the hall. Once you reach your doorway you pull your key from your other coat pocket and you put it in the lock. This shouldn't be such a big deal to you, you're thirty eight for fuck sake!

But god you can't stop thinking that you got busted, that those precious years, the past twenty of them, were fake. And that you'll wake up in your bedroom as a tiny little thing, awoken from a swell dream again. For some reason that thought chills you to the bone worse than the cold air outside ever could.

You enter your apartment, which is three rooms. A bathroom, bedroom, and then everything else was shoved into the main room. You take your hat off and put it on the hat stand, hanging your coat up on the stand as well. Your shoes are taken off to avoid tracking mud and snow. That was one of the worst things you did as a kid. It's a wonder you can remember doing it at all.

The television is a good background noise as you heat up a premade meal, an episode of some funny show about a husband and wife in a _"suburban paradise"_ playing, you're pretty sure the episode on now isn't the same one as last night's - but they all blur together in a weird way and so they very well may be. Once the premade meal is done, you take it, grab a fork, and flop down on the couch with a beer. You don't pay as much attention to the show as you probably should be, instead just staring at the television as if trying to bore a hole through it, and the wall behind it.

The alcohol is nice, not only does it keep up your brooding mysterious private eye look, but it makes you feel slightly better, a little bit more floaty. You pick at your food listlessly for a second, then you look around, sink down on the couch more, and proceed to more or less wolf it down. You practically choke on it and have to pound your chest with a fist and chase it away with the rest of your drink.

Eating things at a reasonable pace has always been a problem for you. You either didn't eat - most often when you were around people - or you ate too fast - when you were alone mostly, or when you chose to do a full school day. You pick up the remote and flip through channels, avoiding more or less all of them, and settling onto the one which plays adverts exclusively. Sure they try to sell you on shit you don't need or want, but they're more tolerable than anything else.

The rest of your night is like every other night, hunt for scoops, flip between the news and the advert channel every five goddamn seconds, pace around your living room, clean the entire kitchen - you deep clean a different area of your apartment each night - and put on something you can actually sleep in. You then, resume your very ungraceful lounging on the couch. That's one of the reasons you choose not to take vacations, you would do literally nothing the entire time, miss the routine of work, but then disdain the thought of going back.

_You dare not take that risk._

At Eight o' clock exactly, you get off the couch, turn the telly off and very quietly enter your bathroom. You wear socks at all times for this reason. Makes your footsteps almost as invisible as your body.

You clean yourself up, stare into the mirror forlornly as nothing is staring back at you _(and you had a good day and didn't think about it at all)_ and then you shuffle into your bedroom again. You sit on the side of your bed for half an hour in the darkness before you actually get under the covers. They don't make you feel any less cold.

_You don't sleep tonight._


	2. A lead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thirty year old cold case finally turns up a lead in the form of the two now grown children. You're not as happy as you should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wrote this entire chapter watching Drew Gooden's "Christmas Mail" movie review in our discord call. 😔

You are awake at four o' clock the next morning as per usual. You make yourself some coffee and add some scotch to it. Because not only does that make it taste better, but because it's not as bitter. You don't very much enjoy coffee on its own. You're wearing your slippers and your pajama pants, having already taken off your night shirt as you relax after an early morning shower. You're sitting on the couch, reading the yesterdays paper and sipping your drink. You bounce your leg quite quickly.

It's still dark out and so you keep your light on as you skim the headlines. General stuff about the results of the war, general news any sufficiently big city might have - especially one with a supervillain population - and other assorted things. Your grip on the paper gets stronger at a story about the police and were you visible, it could be described as 'white knuckled.' You'd always hated the phrase, and the implications that came with it. Toons don't blanche when angry, they blanche when traumatized - _and a lot of people have cop trauma._

Even if that wasn't the issue - which it totally is - you do not like cops much at all. Which you knew better than to mention being a reporter and having to work closely with them. You saw first hand how they treated people, and it made you angry. But you're pretty sure you're always angry. You sip your drink and look around for a second, before setting your drink on the coffee table and very intently looking at the funny strips. 

Sure they're aimed at kids, but you enjoy them goddamnit. Your favorites - and this is a secret you will take to your grave - are the Bendy comics. He's a little shithead, but he's funny, and you wonder where he's headed in life and what his mission is. You shrug it off as not your business and re-read _(for perhaps the twelfth time)_ your personal number one comic. Souper Boris. Everyone in it is a motherfucker and you love that about them. You want to both kiss and murder everyone who shows up in that comic, and you practically weep tears of joy at the thought of being graced with an interview with any of the SSSB members.

Your wife would have loved that. Her favorite was always the uptight, eccentric Cameraman.

~~**You miss her.** ~~

But she wouldn't want that. So you get up, get dressed, ignore the most important meal of the day, clean yourself up again in the bathroom - _a nightmare of a challenge because you're fucking invisible_ \- and gather your things. You would be early if you didn't live so bloody far from work. You double check to make sure you packed a lunch, triple check to make sure you look presentable - mostly just checking for wrinkly clothes - and then you're off. _(You do kiss the framed picture of her sitting on your hall table, where you keep your briefcase.)_

The air is just as cold early in the morning as it is late at night, but at least the people here are actually joining you on your commute rather than fighting against you as you rush down the street. You choose to ignore the people from their windows or their front steps, or who walk across the street to avoid you once they notice you. They never say anything creative.

The train ride is long, and boring, and you zone out a few times as you stand in place and sway. You leave seats open for other people, partially to be kind, and partially because someone once didn't notice you right away and sat on top of you. It was unpleasant and embarrassing. You more or less mentally block out the entirety of the ride because nothing of note happens and you're a petty bitch.

Of course things get more hectic when you actually get to the office. You step through the doors, show the receptionist your badge - not that she needs it. You're very well known here for your stupidity - _you do the dumb things here_ \- and your willingness to strip down and sneak around for a good story. You're pretty sure she was also the one to see you fall out of that tree that one time, so there is no salvaging anything in that friendship ever. _(Are you two even friends?)_

You sit down, and get right to work hunting for a story, you check old papers to see if there's anything that's open ended enough for you to squeeze out another story. You give some people some calls, pulling names from your personal rolodex. Most of the people either have no new information, or they want some privacy. The third group of people just tell you to fuck off. "Write a paper or some shit news boy."

You're trying to do that. They're stupid.

After a very unsuccessful morning you and your co-workers are now just chattering in the breakroom and enjoying your lunches. Well, you're not one of the ones around the coffee pot, you're just trying to eat your sandwich. One of your longest co-workers and companions Russell is sitting with you and your mutual friend Vicky. Vicky's a secretary, and Russell works the printing press. You think Vicky's a riot because she's always got a story about some new stupid exciting thing.

Today it's how she tricked a lad into sticking his tongue to a cold pole after he asked her "Hey dame in the black dress, what can I do to make you give me a chance?" It was his own fault really. She very sheepishly admits she didn't call the fire department for him, so he might still be there. You choke on your sandwich and Russell claps you on the back with a big furry paw.

You drink your water - which isn't water at all, it's vodka - as you three have a hushed conversation about generally random bullshit, why Christmas sucked when you didn't have much money or many friends, and the weather - mostly how much it sucked.

Vicky idly teased a lock of greying hair and looked around at everyone else, before locking eyes with you.

"You actually like tuna? _Blergh_." She made a face.

"Well, at least I can appreciate good food." 

Russell is groaning, partly because he also disdains tuna and partly because you two are fighting like kids _again_. You look over at him and make faces.

"Yeah but it's two to one, and through democracy we can tell you that you're objectively wrong and that tuna is gross."

She folds her hands on the table and gives you a sickly sweet smile that almost makes you gag. She pulls out her own lunch, a Monte Cristo with powdered sugar and you play up the gagging. It's not hard to do since the concept of a sweet sandwich is absolutely terrible to you.

"Eeew.... really Vicky?"

If looks could kill, you would have died twelve times before you hit the ground. Both Vicky and Russell give you the most impressive death glare you've ever seen, and you worry they're trying to set you on fire with their minds. Russell throws his napkin at you, misses, and you almost cry laughing. Vicky is giving you both the side eye and eating her sandwich.

"You're both certifiably stupid," she tosses her hair and huffs, "and you say you can appreciate good food." She levels that last accusation right at you.

Russell gasps and whirls around to gawk at her, moving so fast his cap falls off his head, and his ears go up, tail fluffed out. His eyes have gone from siltted and serious to silly mode. He points at himself all offended, as if he couldn't imagine the reality in which he's a moron - even though he's living in it.

"I mean she said it to me too, not to mention insulting my personal tastes, and I'm not getting my fur all fluffed up." You chuckle into a gloved hand and take another swig of your vodka, head and hands starting to feel a little bit warm as you relax.

"You don't have fur!" He gestures at you and splutters indignantly.

You raise a finger and attempt your very best _"are you being serious right now"_ look. He gags.

"How do you know, huh? Have you been watching me since childhood - woe is me!" You lay your head on the table, pretending to sob, before perking back up and punching Russell's arm.

Vicky calls you both stupid again, and you guys share a look. One that reads _'are you seeing this shit dude?'_ You both wish you weren't.

Then your boss runs in. He's got a lead on an old case from the 20's. The murder of a toon lady somewhere outside the city. You don't think about it at first because a lot of people kill other people outside the city. There's like fourteen stories about someone dying out of the city bounds from the past year. The number kind of frightens you because that's a fucked up thing to do, kill someone. And none of these people had been doing it in self defense, or any other slightly redeeming reason.

Then he says her name and everything goes in slow motion. 

"There was a kid! Two kids in fact! They'll know who did it, or at least have suspicions!" He waves his hands around and flails his arms.

The kids know who did it? There's two of them? Oh this is so... this is good. That's a story. This will be great for Bouillonburg Bulletin! You should be happy for them. You _are_ happy for them.

But then it gets even worse, somehow, and you're not happy anymore, because he wants you to investigate. You spit out your drink and choke on air, pounding your chest rapidly. It makes sense for you to be the one who hunts this story.

**After all, you do the dumb things.**


	3. The Investigation - Part One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really want to get this over with. You want to get all investigations over with, so this shouldn't be too different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snake cop dad snake cop dad snake cop dad (these are the only good cops)

You've been offered an all expenses paid trip out of the whole city - _the first class train ride, the hotel, the supplies you'd need to gather the story, and everything else too._ You turn it all down. You're fine with a long commute just standing up. It's what you're used to anyways.

Everyone at work is swarming you with questions about your new story, and you're feeling very much overwhelmed. You tug your hat down over your head, trying to burrow under it, whilst flipping up your coat collar to hide under that too. There's just so many people crowding you and the feeling isn't a very good one, of being smothered under people you barely know and don't care much about. Vicky and Russell are trying to get everyone else to leave you alone, but you can barely register them.

Eventually the crowd disperses, you're sent home early to get some sleep, after all, you're leaving first thing in the morning tomorrow. So you leave, stop by the corner store and pick up a pack of cigarettes, passing the shop owner a quarter. You pluck one out of the package and the dog behind the counter lights it for you. Once you close the package again, you put it in your coat pockets, pick up your things again, and head home, keeping your smoke in your mouth.

You unlock your apartment, step inside, drop your briefcase, take off your coat, hat, and boots, and you just sit on the sofa, smoking. You're vaguely aware your wife would yell at you if she saw you, but her picture doesn't face the living room.

It's nine o' clock when you go to bed, as usual. You didn't even get up from the couch until that point, and once you did, you marched straight into the bedroom and fell asleep on top of the covers, not even bothering to change out of your day clothes. Falling asleep is actually possible tonight, though you figure it's from the stress and overwhelming nature of today. It won't come again, the ability to sleep.

* * *

Once you're on the train, it finally sinks in that this is real. This is happening.

There's a frazzled poodle lady trying to calm a much smaller, crying poodle. She looks very exhausted, and she's apologizing to everyone else on the train. The little one, on the other hand, is just crying inconsolably, and is refusing to stop. Everyone's annoyed at the noise, yourself included, but at the very least you're not telling her off for it. Funny how the asshole is the only one who doesn't get all high and mightily offended by a kid.

"Cute lil' ankle biter, are they yours?" You lean in.

"Yes...."

The kid looks up at you, and gasps audibly, forgetting to cry for a second. They noticed you're not exactly the most tangible dude, which for once is something you're okay with, because it got them to stop. Then they decide to ask you some questions, which you decide to answer, humoring them.

"What's it like when you wake up?" _Like everyone else._

"How do you know where your legs are if you don't have pants on?" _Practice, plus being able to feel them helps._

"What if you need a doctor?" _You hope you never do._

This passes about an hour, and calms down the child, at which point they sit up next to their greatly relieved mother. It seems like they're taking a nap. 

The ride is going to be another three hours, and so you decide to be semi productive, pulling out a small brochure for the little town. It's kitschy, cute, but there doesn't seem to be much going on there - _other than a thirty year old murder mystery_ \- and you're surprised because it seems to have stayed the same throughout the many years it's been around. There's a lot of places selling knick-knacks and tchotchkes.

The brochure is very optimistic in the way it views the place - clearly made before the lead was brought up - and it's got cutesy little photographs showcasing the rolling hills and rich landscape. You manage to not gag at how weirdly saccharine that is. How could someone stand to be so goddamn happy all the time? It sounds exhausting.

At least reading - and re-reading - the brochure about seventy times passes the rest of the train ride. You gather your things - you packed pretty light, putting all your clothes in your briefcase and carrying your notebooks in your pockets. You step out into the outside station, and it's slightly more cold out here, which is fair considering the altitude. 

People are giving you more looks than ever, probably because you're not from around here, and they hardly - if ever - see toons like you. You ignore it.

Your boss said to meet a guy at this quaint little breakfast place in town, because apparently this guy was pretty smart, and he knew his way around. So you enter, give your information, and are told to go check if he's already arrived. He did. He's a cop.

 _And a snake, which is very fitting,_ you think.

Your fists ball up subconsciously, so you take a deep breath, and relax them. He sees you and calls you over. You oblige.

"Well well well! If it'ss not the sstar reporter!" He lisps at you.

"Haha.... yeah."

"Sso... how'ss work been treating you kid?"

You shrug, it's been fine. Not good, not bad, but fine.

"That'ss good I ssuposse. You're here for the murder of Mss. Mary then, ain'tcha?"

You swallow and nod. If things go wrong you can just leave. You're allowed to walk out of the diner and go home - your boss said so. You think.

"Y - Yes sir, I am."

"And it'ss a good thing too! Everyone'ss been afraid ever ssince the newss came out about it. We've been trying to help but we've not any ideass about where thesse kidss have gone!"

You listen. You're quite good at it.

And he tells you the story. You write it all down. Mary had a husband named John, and a daughter named Jane. They fostered another child but nobody can recall who they were or what type of toon they were. There have been conflicting reports about this mystery child. Some say they were an animal toon, some say they weren't, and some say it doesn't matter at all. They asked around the local schools and managed to find Jane's record of attendance and her grades, but there was nothing the schools were able to turn up for this sibling of hers.

Mary and John were perfect parents, very kind and good natured, and so brave trying to help their sweet, sick little girl. She'd apparently been see-through since the day she was born. Then to amplify their kindness, they take in a toon whose parents don't want them, to save the kid from the adoption agencies.

But apparently someone didn't like their family, and so they took Mary out back into the woods behind their house and killed her in the night. Some think it's a man who wanted Mary for himself, some think perhaps it was a mistress, but nobody knows for sure. And that's where you come in.

He offers to buy you something to eat, but you're not very hungry, and so you politely decline. He's surprised, but when you tell him _"I just want to get to work as soon as possible, for the sake of their family,"_ he understands.

He pays, and you both leave in his cop car. You stare out the passenger-side window as he drives out to the house, which is located on Duchess Pass. Once you both arrive, you step out of the cop car, and stare. You're amazed at this house, it's an architects dream house, painted a very pale olive green on the wooden sliding exterior, with a big porch and a silver gate on the pathway up to the porch. It's regal.

But there's more cops. Fitting since this is technically a crime scene. They all part like an ocean to admit you entry to the house, and you peek in through the doorway before opening it entirely. There's a nice couch, nice coffee table, a radio sitting on top of it. The dining room is to the left - _there's no door separating the dining room and living room_ \- and the kitchen further beyond that.

There's a staircase to the right of the couch leading to the second floor. You don't go up there yet, you instead go into the kitchen, turn the light on, and begin to observe. The cops are all standing in between the kitchen and dining room. There's a box of granola - _empty of course_ \- on the counter. There's some suspicious prints on the refrigerator handle, the cupboard's got things missing in random order.

You observe the floor, hunched down, and notice an imprint of a person. It doesn't match Mary, but it matches one of the kids. 

The cops go to check this out, as you move to the laundry room. There's clothes for a man, woman, and a little girl. There is one very small beige shirt which matches the description of the other child.

The dining room table only has three chairs, and has half melted candles on the centerpiece. **There's no sign it's been used.**

The couch has some suspicious stains on it, the coffee table's seems normal, but on the bottom it's scratched up, and there's small metal imprints. The carpet is also suspiciously stained, and it's frayed on the edges. You prepare to go upstairs.

_Your hands are shaking._

_You don't care._

The first room is Jane's, and when you enter it looks nice. The bed is slightly stained, but not as much as anything else. Her drawers are full of clothes, though you can feel something hard and pokey, and you very carefully pull one of her pairs of socks up, and see a hidden box of bandages. You put the socks back. Her room is pretty messy, but it's the general messiness which comes from a spoiled child with lots of toys.

You tell the cops her room is fine and then you go to the next room. It's the master bedroom.

There's divorce papers on the nightstand. There's a lot of clothes stuffed under the bed, mostly women's clothes, none of which match Mary's clothing size. The master bathroom has a fully stocked pill cabinet, a trash bin full of cigarettes. The mouthwash smells like alcohol, and there's some odd stains in the bathtub.

The upstairs bathroom - _the one used by the kids_ \- is okay, it's got lots of bandages in the trash though.

But the other kids room. The moment you open the door you are greeted with the most disgusting smell - _it smells like festering rot._ The cops all gag, but you're slightly more used to this sort of thing. You enter, and see a small bed with a pillow and blanket, a set of drawers like Jane's, and a small bookshelf. You peer under the bed and there's nothing but more scratches and metal imprints. The underside of the tiny rug has money taped to it. The drawers have a few long sleeve shirts and slacks. 

The underside of the drawer has it's own bandage box, and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol hidden below.

You check the bookshelf next, and you also check inside the books. The pages have been glued to the cover, a hole cut through the pages, and there's money and more bandages in there. There's only three books which aren't like this. The bed's covered in stains and you feel gross looking at it. The window's been locked shut and is cracked.

You leave the room and tell the cops to check it. The looks on their faces are ones of _"do we have to?"_

They do. It's their job.

~~And they'll do it, even if you have to strangle them into doing it.~~

You leave the house and go smoke outside.

"Sso.... thiss casse.... bit more legwork to do than expected..."

You look down to the cop. He's really short, especially when not balanced on his tail, but that can't be healthy for him.

"Yup. Surprising, eh?"

"Mhm. Though it might not be for you kid.... you ssee thesse thingss in your field of work all the time I bet?"

"More or less."

_No._

_You don't._


	4. The Investigation - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was too different from your other cases. Because somebody knows the truth, and you wish he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New dad!! Pig dad!! | Next chapter will be an interlude. Torn between a kid-view interlude or a sneak peak at another character. Leave suggestions/ideas in the comments and we'll read them!)

You're tired. But there's some more to do. You head back inside, and you walk past everyone else, and crack open a hidden door on the stairs. The cops all gasp.

"Don't waste your breath on this. There's other important things down here." 

You go down into the basement, there's a lot of stains down here, the floor is cold, there's a blanket and a pillow in the corner of the room, the walls are exposed, and there's asbestos everywhere. You cover your exposed self with a glove. You really shouldn't breathe this in, it might make you sick ~~er~~. The cops don't follow you - at your own request. 

The blanket and pillow are overlooked entirely, as you pass them up to grab a very small object in the corner. You stash it in your pocket and leave. 

You let them know they can go down if they want, but you don't recommend it.

_They don't._

"Sso, you're like a real expert on thesse ssortss of thingss."

You jump about a foot in the air and shriek.

He laughs a little bit while you smooth out your coat and seethe at him, not that he notices since it's done silently and he can't see your expression.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"It'ss a good thing, we need more of thosse."

You don't give him a response, but you get into the passenger seat of his cruiser again. It's time to get statements from people who apparently knew the family.

The first one is a sweet little cat lady, likely in her seventies now, dark grey with a polka-dot dress. She pours you and your 'boss' a cup of tea.

"Those two, as nice as they seemed they never got along. _Never!"_ She laughs a little bit. "If they were out at a restaurant they always fought over who got what. John would want a beer with dinner all the time, Mary would demand he got a water since she wanted to drink and Jane was too young to drive."

Your boss looks at you weirdly, and you shrug at him when she turns around to grab the sugar cube holder. You both change your looks back to forced neutrality when she turns back to face you both.

"So... was there any other suspicious behavior?"

"Oh not that I knew of. All I knew was that Mary was overwhelmed being the good Samaritan and that she and John always used to go to one of those little places downtown to get dinner. The owner knows them I think. Rodney's his name."

You bid her a friendly farewell, resist your urge to shatter her porcelain tea set, and you leave. The next place to go is Rodney's.

"Ey' boss, I can hoof it there, if you wanna hit it back to the boys at the house. I'll head right on back over once I get some answers."

You don't wait for a response, just heading down the quickest route to Rodney's Place _(apparently he called it that)_ despite not being told where it was downtown. The bell on the door jingles as you open it, and you can recognize the smell - it's pizza. And you can tell it's good pizza.

A stout pig toon from behind the counter calls to you, snapping you out of your dazed state. "Howdy there! Welcome in it's so good to see a mysterious face round here!"

You're not sure whether to laugh or cry, but most of you wants to get naked and disappear. 

"Ah, you might be...?"

"Rodney! Owner of this fine establishment!" He gestures around proudly.

"A pleasure. My name is Mr. …Mr. Mann, and I'm here on an Important case. The whole Duchess Pass murder, real frightening stuff."

He seems to pale in fear before returning to normal. "Ah yes, that."

_You lean in._

"Oh you're going to ask me things! Right, right." He wipes his hands on his apron and calls you into the backroom.

If your memory serves you right, there's a chair to the left of the door on the inside, it's silver, but the seat is covered in red leather. He's got a small desk with a telephone on it, a swivel chair behind the desk, and two swivel chairs in front of it. The desk is diagonal, facing the doorway on the right side of the room. There's a picture of a much younger Rodney right above his chair, and a potted plant in each corner of the room.

You're right. You always are.

**It must be on account of how fucking brilliant you are.**

"Take a seat there Mr. Mann, and ask away!"

You do as you're told, looking around the room, before shuffling your notepad paper.

"Alright Mr. Rodney, let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

And so you both do.

The two of them were trying to split - apparently John was all fast and Mary hated it, he never wanted to get intimate with her, but either went out or brought girls in to neck on. They had a kid - _Jane_ \- to try and salvage whatever they had before, but it didn't work out. John was still a creep and Mary was still going through some stuff. Then they fostered a kid, a tiny little thing. Apparently Rodney had seen him before he totally vanished from sight. Everyone had it all wrong about the kid, they were all angry and spitfire and liked to kick people in the shins.

You laugh a little bit.

Those two, he said, gave the kid a different last name than their own, simply so he'd always know he was different. _And boy howdy he was._

He was a tiny kid, prone to hissy fits and stabbing people with whatever he could get his little mitts on. Rodney only ever befriended the kid because he had food. The kid racked up a tab worth about twenty dollars all those years ago with how much he ate. 

"It's like, they weren't good parents but don'tcha ever feed your kid?"

"We saw the house, and I'll clue ya' in."

He looks at you wide-eyed.

"They didn't."

This is said gravely, with your head pointed down to obscure your face from view - _not that it mattered anyways_. Though you got the intended effect you wanted.

"You're kidding!"

"No, sadly. They got a kick out of it too. The whole place is horrid, I'll bet it gets trashed to the ground."

"As it should I suppose."

You offer him a cig, but he turns it down. You shrug and light up.

"Y'said you saw the kid once, got any proof, or a vague description of em'?" 

He does you good on that, handing you a picture of him and the child, who's sitting on his knee. He's dressed up like Santa for Christmas and you almost weep. _That's a tiny ankle-biter, real tiny._

"Thanks," you mumble around the lump in your throat, "for everything. Sir."

You're about to leave, when he grabs your wrist and you struggle to hold in a scream.

"Wait a second there, this is no way to greet me after all these years! Least you can do is a hug there kiddo!"

Everything slows down and the last thing you _see_ , is him smiling like he's figured everything out.

The last thing you _**hear** _is a thud, before everything goes quiet as well as dark.

_~~**You've blacked out on the floor.** ~~ _


	5. Interlude - Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today was supposed to be a good day, but it wasn't. It never is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy day of womb escape Jane. (her birthday in story is May 15th. she was born in 1919)

_It's Jane's birthday today, and she's going to take cupcakes to school._

_You're helping her lace up the back of her dress while she talks about it and rocks on her heels. You wish you had a dress like this, it's very pretty. You bet it's soft. And warm._

_"And we're gonna take a little break from practicing reading today, so we can have a little celebration about me."_

_You nod and tie the lace into a little bow._

_She does a practice twirl in her dress, you'd ignore the way it flares up and out, but you warn her just in case. (In case someone sees.)_

_At seven o' clock Mary comes up to take her to school, and she gives you a big awkward wave as she bounds outside to the car. You stare at her through the window and sigh longingly, resting your head on the slight ledge of the windowsill. You wish you could go with her._

_John's staying home today, since he's working tonight. He's in the living room drinking and listening to the radio, you know this because you can barely hear the faint crooning of the singer drift up the stairs and into Jane's room. He's already probably spifflicated and snoring loudly in his stupor._

_You're just glad he's doing that rather than upstairs, cornering you in your bedroom, backing you into a corner and prodding you uncomfortably. You think you should get back into your own room, now that you're thinking about it. So you do._

_Your room is smaller than everyone else's, your bed is all gross and stained and growing a very suspicious culture of mold at the bottom left corner. The little bookshelf doesn't get used, unless it's to hide stolen money or small packets of food. Your dressers are empty inside, save for your two or three shirts - all filthy of course - but there's a lot of stolen goods hidden underneath it where nobody ever thinks to check._

_It's eight o' clock when John wakes up and stomps up the stairs. You can recognize his steps by the way he walks, all full of self-imposed importance and without anything to actually make him as important as he feels._

_He comes down the hall quickly, and you know exactly what's going to happen. You sit on your bed and stare at your doorway as he bangs the door open. You jump in fear and cower._

_He likes when you do that._

_He's taller than you, and stronger than you, and so even when you punch him and kick him and yell and cry and push his face away nothing happens._

* * *

_You're laying on the floor in the bathroom, a cold rag pressed against your crotch as you cry. He's gone back downstairs to drink and Mary's knitting in the kitchen. You know better than to ask her for help, even if you didn't have to walk past him. She doesn't care. You're not her kid, or her problem._

_So you lay there for an hour, then you get up, clean the rag off - it's covered in blood - and you go back into your room to try and calm down._

_It feels like your entire body's been packed with lead, and you can barely move your feet, even though you're dragging them. You're so tired but you're too afraid to sleep. Not only does it leave you vulnerable and weakened, but you always see the most awful things when you sleep. It's like some higher power is tormenting you specifically for fun. Fucking hell._

_You can't wait until Jane comes back at three, because she'll hold your hands and dry your tears. She'll comfort you and tell you that you're okay and that one day nobody is going to hurt you, or touch you weird. She'll remind you that one day your dreams will all come true and everyone will remember your name. And they will. They all will._

_Your hands tingle and feel like they're going to float away from your body, and your feet feel like they're full of stone. You scratch your arms and pinch the backs of your hands. you bite them and you scratch your legs up to try and make everything feel more normal, even just a little bit. you wish that you were anywhere but here. You wonder when your birthday is._

_Do you even have one?_

_Do you deserve one?_

_You hope you do._


	6. Wake Up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really got to stop doing this - the pass out, make mistakes, and fuck up cycle. You're pretty sure all the smoke is getting to your lungs. Or your head. You're yelling at people you care about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Invisible Toon pls stop smoking - we say as we plot the next few chapters. (news flash he won't.)

When you come to, your head is reeling and everything hurts. How hard did you fall? You try to move, but you cant, and it freaks you the _fuck_ out. You look down and see you're tied to a chair.

Your breath comes fast and shallow, and you begin to struggle harder, trying to get up and get away.

"Easy kid. Seriously, this is no way to greet an old pal." Rodney chuckles as he walks into the light.

"You've got me tied up asshole! _Let me go!"_

He shakes his head sadly and smiles a little bit.

"No can do, you're restrained for your own good, you concussed yourself something real fierce."

You pause. This isn't because of what happened? This isn't because of the... _the things you've done?_

"So you'll let me go eventually?"

"Sure, sure. But first," he sits down in a chair right across from you, "where the hell have you been all these years?"

"Do you really want to know?"

You'd be raising a brow if you could, but you're too damn tired and it hurts to try and make expressions. You look around now that your vision is coming back to you, and you're still in his office, he's just moved some things around. He looks more tired, you think, than he used to.

"My best customer-"

"I _never_ paid you, my tab was longer than my will to live."

"As I was saying," he levels a disappointed parent look at you, "my best customer vanishes, his mom kicks it, sister runs away and gets adopted by someone else, his pop vanishes into the big city to pick up a new dame... something happened."

You lean back in your chair and sigh. You could really use a drink, and a smoke, and a nice long nap.

"I'll tell you what I got if you light me up."

He looks at you incredulously, but he obliges, and you take a deep inhale before puffing your cig. You thank him and your throat gets dry.

"Aight.... Mary's gone dead cold, John's probably died of drink poisoning, Jane is.... I dunno. An' me. Well I'm jus' the investigator."

He leans over his desk and looks right at you, as if he's trying to look right through you, and pick you apart. You feel itchy when he does that and you shiver.

"I meant tell me about the murder, and what the house was like. You know. You lived there."

Oh, he's serious. He's so very serious. You don't like that. It's almost worse than him looking through you. You're nauseated, and you spit out your cigarette, stomping it out on the floor as you dry heave. He sighs.

"Aight I - I got it 'm just... not feeling so hot."

"Take your time." He waves a hand at you and nods once. You gag again.

It takes a while for you to feel better, a long while. But true to his word, he waits. He doesn't push or prod, or demand answers - not like some people you know - instead, he just lets you be as sick, and sad, and upset as you want until you're okay. And you do. You very awkwardly apologize for how much you've been gone and how everything went. He says it's okay, that there's time to get to know each other again. You want to cry.

"T - the beginning, yuh... it began when uh... when Mary an' John adopted me. Jane was a great sister, love her to death. Mary was distracted, at her wits end I think, didn't pay any attention to either of us unless we was in public. John was... I didn't like him. Still don't like him. He was creepy. Too invested in me n Jane. Mostly me.

"Like, creepy invested. He didn't care about our report cards - _or Jane's mostly_ \- that was Mary's thing. Makes me sick, the things he did."

You actually gag again, and resist the urge to vomit.

"Didn't feed me or take care of me really, hence the tab."

He nods knowingly, piercing you with his gaze. You buckle under the weight of it and turn away.

"So, you're investigating the murder of _her_ then?"

"Mhm."

You nod a little bit, shuffling in your ropes and you tilt your head down, hat falling off. It probably fell off when you blacked out - did he put it back on you after he got you sitting up? The thought touches you. It makes you feel a little bit less dead.

"Why?"

"Well my dear _sweet_ mother dies and I want to know why." You'd be fluttering your eyes at him if you felt well enough to.

"You're hidin' something kid. Huh?"

"No.... **not at all!** " You snark at him.

He puts his head in his hands and sighs. You're not sure if he's angry or disappointed. You're not sure what hurts the most.

Honestly, he was one of your only friends in the past, basically like your dad, you stayed around for him. You could have gotten out of here a lot earlier - _and thinking back to your old uncomfortable feelings, a lot messier_ \- but you didn't. Because it would make him sad, and you really, really wanted to make him proud. He's the only reason you can cook anything without setting yourself on fire - you did that once and he cried. You lived of course, but he cried. You don't think Mary or John ever cried when you got hurt, or when Jane did, in fact.

How the hell could someone be so detached from their kids?

You gulp.


	7. Continuation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think about your wife more right now, than you did in the past few years. It makes you feel better, but worse all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *folds my hands cutely under my chin.* :)

You leave. You always leave. You leave everyone you love - _or they leave you first._

You're alone now, standing in the cold air and enjoying it for once, mostly because you're pretty certain you've got a fever and you might catch your death. When's the last time you've gone to the doctor...? Had to have been at least a decade or so ago, because your sweetheart got pretty mad if you didn't take care of yourself. You should make an appointment, you think, knowing you won't.

Left, right, left, right. You very awkwardly shuffle back to the crime scene, and your boss has been waiting for you. He's not exactly happy with you right now, but his anger seems to temper when he notices just how terrible you probably look. 

"Hey... kid are you alright?"

"Yeah, mhm."

He stares up at you and scowls. It's really funny because he looks like the kind of guy who never so much as _frowns_ at anyone ever.

"Anywhoozits, I got more info on the case, if y'all want to head inside we can review it."

He pauses, the scowl slides off his face and is replaced by a more recognizable grin. He nods so fast his head becomes a blur, and you both re-enter the house, and pull up a seat at the dining room table. At least it's finally being used. He's got a cup of hot cocoa sitting in front of him, which he's drinking slowly, tail wrapped around the cup, and he's made a cup for you. It's sitting right in front of you, but you're not touching it.

The two of you are sitting across from one another as you pull out your notepad, reading off everything you've got - and ad-libbing the rest - to him. 

"Mary was all burnt out, didn't pay no attention to either kid, John was the worst don't get me started, Jane was just... everyone agrees she was a sweetheart, and that other one was apparently a tiny shithead. Liked to kick people and stab them with whatever he could. Oh! And I-" you rummage in your coat pockets, "gots a photo of him!"

You very proudly - but not without a shaky hand - drop the photo onto the table, and your boss is either blowing air out from between his fangs and it just sounds like a hiss - or a teakettle - or he's actually hissing. He sets down his drink and stares right at the photo, picking it up for closer inspection.

"I recognizze this one."

"Oh?" You lean in, resting your head in your hand.

~~_Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't-_ ~~

"I think he became a ssupervillain for a while... wonder what happened to him."

"Me too, come to think of it."

You _don't_ wonder, actually. You already know what happened to him, it's pretty hard to not know yourself.

Well, you don't totally know yourself, and sometimes you wonder if things would have been different if you'd grown up in a different house, with a different family and what-not. Maybe you'd be visible still, maybe you'd have actually gotten to follow your own dumb theater kid dreams... but you wouldn't have met your wife. You wouldn't have gotten the fluttery feeling in your stomach whenever she smiled at you, you'd never have gotten to meet your muse.

She didn't complete you, no, she even told you that you were complete on your own, but she flustered when you told her that she made you better. _She made you softer._ Hell, she's why you dropped the whole villain thing - because you didn't want her to be in harms way. 

"That other guy lookss pretty nice."

You're not sure what the fuck that means, or if the sentence would be improved or worsened by adding a swear into it. But you look up, giving him the most incredulous look you can muster and he waggles his brows. You gag, because oh dear god that's so weird. But hey.... actually wait there's nothing good about that.

You bang your head on the table and let yourself think about her instead, because you like thinking about her, and also it'll make the weird feeling go away if you don't think about it.

She cried a whole awful lot the night you told her you were done with that and were applying for a real, honest to god job. She was only your girlfriend then, but as an actress she made enough for you both, but you had been wanting a job for a while by that point. You held her while she cried, and you let her rest her head on your shoulder. Her face was all tear-streaked and her hair had gone all frizzy from the dancing around in glee and then the crying and the repeated pathetic attempts to smooth it back into place. Neither of you cared. You just picked her up and carried her around, singing very off key love songs because you _loved her._ You still love her.

**And... you _always_ were her favorite.**

You actually have to pause when you start thinking about her. You hold your hand up and your boss quiets down. You suck in a deep breath and everything begins to relax - but you're pretty sure you're fragile like eggshells right now. Whole, but easily broken again, so you want him to be gentle with you. He doesn't understand, but he gives you your time.

You let out a shaky exhale and almost... almost grab a lucky to smoke on. But you don't. She'd be mad at you because it's bad for you. And you're so busy thinking about her that doing it probably wouldn't even help anyways.

Once you feel a little better, you let him explain the next course of action.

"We really sshould go to ssee Jane and where sshe'ss at now. We've managed to locate her and sshe'ss expecting uss to come over eventually."

You suddenly feel cracked down the middle, but the saying is that you've gotta crack a few eggs to make a good omlette. You don't want to go see Jane, or have her see you, or interact with her much, because it might make you sad... or.. sadder. But that's okay.

Because at least you can get some healing done, you hope. Or at the very least annoy the hell out of your sister.


	8. Jane.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet someone who you care about, and who cares about you, it only took thirty years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siblings siblings siblings siblings *insert the siblings song here*

The two of you head over to Jane's house, which is a very small, quaint home, with a lot of flowers planted around it. You think it's adorable. She's not home yet though, so you both sit in the cruiser and you bounce your leg, tapping your fingers on your legs, not only bored, but somehow over and under stimulated all at once.

It takes a whole hour for her to come home, carrying groceries inside. The moment you see her though, you practically leap out of the car and let out the most appalling pterodactyl screech you can.

She whirls around, spots you, points a lacy glove at you and begins chanting _'sibling'_ over and over, at an increasingly alarming volume.

You're almost positive your boss thinks you're both insane, but he's hiding that well, or he's more distracted by the fact she's calling you sibling. You don't think about that as much as you should, because Jane runs over to you and physically tackles you while attempting to noogie you into oblivion. You flail your arms around and try to punch her when she puts you in a choke-hold.

"Boss! Help!" 

He's more amused by this now than concerned. "No, I sshan't, your ssisster hass been missssing you it appearss..."

You groan at him and wiggle around like a dying fish, at least until she picks you up to give you a proper hug.

"Wow you're real massive huh?" She's probably giving you a snarky smirk and also the stink eye. _You'd bet on your life._

"Are you mocking me?"

"Nope! Jus saying you used to be a tiny motherfucker."

You give her a stare which absolutely is a threat, but she ignores it and squeezes you harder. You're pretty sure the crunch you just heard was either your spine or your utility belt, and you're not sure which option is worse. She finally backs off, because she either fucked up your nice belt _\- that you made yourself -_ or she just broke your spine.

"Oww..." It was your spine.

"I am sooo sorry little man." She seems apologetic at least.

"What the _fuck_ do you mean little man, I'm taller than you!"

"You're younger."

"By one year! _One year!"_

She looks at your boss, and with her being just as invisible as you it's hard for him to guess her expression, but you can just tell that she's got a brow raised, and she looks either bored, or just smug. Probably smug, in all fairness. You at least manage to somewhat limp away from her hugging range, and you hunch over because it's the only thing that makes your spine hurt less.

"Aaanywaayss... we've got ssome quesstionss for you missss Jane."

"Oh! Yeah... should have seen that coming. Wit' shithead being a detective...."

You glare at her and resist all urges to turn her into a nice pile of ashes. _(You don't actually have the desire to do that to her, but you can pretend you do as a threat at least.)_

She ushers you both inside once you help her with her groceries, and she motions for you both to sit down at her table. You do, you're more relaxed here than anywhere else in this town. She slaps your hand playfully and suddenly you're both locked into a slapping match. Your boss is tired again.

You have to shush her when she gets giggly and then you have to try and resume your totally stoic, normal composure, even though your boss is now very much aware of... everything honestly. You'd be surprised if he didn't hear her chanting sibling, or if he noticed the way you both repeatedly harassed each other. But it was friendly harassment.

"Alright.... Jane.... we have a few questions to ask, as my boss explained."

She nods, tugging on her gloves a little bit. "Of course."

"So, where were you when Ms. Mary was murdered?"

"At school."

You nod, _she was_.

"When did you discover her body?"

"I personally never did, it was buried in the woods behind our house I think."

You write that down.

She gives more general information on what growing up there was like - _hint, it was pretty shitty_ \- and then once the questioning of her is over, she practically demands to know where you've been all these years and what you've been doing. You wither under both her gaze, and your very interested boss's gaze. Right, of course he's interested, he's getting some brand new information - some information you wish he didn't get.

"Uh....err... well I was a-uh... a supervillain for a while, but I think y'all knew that already. I ditched that after a while to become a detective an... I uh, met my wife."

This earns you an excited squeal from your sister, who is the most hopeless romantic you've ever met - aside from one demoness you've met. Your boss is also staring at you and folding his tail over to pump it in the air, he's proud of you, you think. _You hope._ You stare at them and wait until Jane stops impersonating a tea kettle, and until your boss stops impersonating a boxing glove.

"She... she died in the war."

They both pause, and the expression on their faces was absolutely worth doing that for. It's the perfect mix of shock and horror.

Your boss coughs into his tail awkwardly and straightens up, Jane completely averts your gaze altogether. You're not sure if you're proud you freaked them out or what. Okay, you're a little bit proud, but not a lot, after all, you miss your wife more than you like being alone.

She offers you both cookies and idle chatter, and for once you partake in it - not even as a bystander, but of your own choice - and it passes the time quite well. An hour later, she sends you both off with a little pack of cookies each, and for you specifically, a demand to "come over once in a while snot head, it'll do you some good!"

The moment you're both safely in the cruiser and driving down the road, he pulls over fast, and you grab your hat. _It's a nice hat._ You don't want to loose it. 

He then looks right at you, pointing his tail at you accusatorily. "You're the other one?"

"Was it... was it not obvious?"

He glares at you and you resist the urge to giggle like an idiot. You're gonna fucking die of laughter, mostly because you are absolutely choking and breathing gets hard for a second or two, before you manage to stop laughing and wheezing.

"We could have avoided half of this investigation if you just told us this."

Oh, he's uh... he's disappointed in you. This hurts... it hurts a lot more than any time Mary or John had ever been angry at you. And they used to _hurt_ you.

The two of you drive in silence and you wring your hat in your hands, mangling the shape of it. You wish you didn't have bones so someone could do this to you.


	9. Payphone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've fucked up royally, and now you've got to call everyone you know for help, just to cover your own ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had to look up the past tense of smite. It has 2! Smitten, which now commonly refers to falling in love, and smote, which is archaic and rare, but still refers to divine punishment. The more u kno ;)

You very successfully block out the entire ride back to your hotel - which you realize, you've spent an alarming amount of time away from. The thing is that you like hotels, the endless hallways, the paintings hung up everywhere, the endless present with no strings attached. No past mistakes, no fear of the future. You sit on the side of the bed and just, resist the urge to either cry, or to destroy everything in sight.

It takes a few minutes for your brain to actually kick into action, but when it does you wonder how the fuck could you not think of this before. You get up, sigh because you'll probably have spinal issues into the forseeable future. After you manage to stand up properly, you leave your hotel room, and head to the closest payphone. You've got a few calls to make right now. Vicky gave you a number to reach her at, aside from her home number. You call her house first, nobody answers, and so you call the second number.

" _Viiiick_...."

"What happened?" 

You're distinctly aware that it's three in the morning and that no wonder she's pissed at you.

"I got found out."

"Be more specific. Did they find out you're a moron?"

"Riiight. Right. This is gonna sound nuts but remember how there was two kids in that case...?"

"Mhm."

"Well I'm one of em'."

You can hear her drop something and swear. You also hear twelve other voices, you're pretty sure. _Where the hell is she?_

"Heeeeey, who ya talkin' to?" Oh fuck that's a real familiar voice.

You shuffle a little bit in the payphone booth, shivering in the cold.

"Uh - uh nobody..." Vicky gets all quiet.

There's a tussle on the other line and the phone makes a beeping noise as it's passed over - definitely not by choice.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes ma'am....."

_"Cammy?"_

Oh god. You can literally feel yourself dying inside, like a rotting cucumber.

"Cammy what happened?" At least her voice is soft.

"Got kinda sorta found out. By the police chief in my hometown. **Hhhhhh**."

There's an audible wince, and then a soft intake of breath.

"I'll see what I can do for you, you square."

"I'm gonna call my other subordinate Russell later..."

Then comes the double take, presumably her spitting out water, or alcohol, and choking for a second. Clearly she didn't expect you to have any sort of position of power.

"Your _what?!"_

"Subordinate. Vicky's a secretary, not mine personally, but she's lower in power than me, and Russell works the press. I'm a reporter... or investigator... or detective, whatever you wanna call me really."

There's another double take, but this one's worse - _and funnier_ \- where she splutters again, and she gets a thump on the back. The phone is once again passed over.

"See Vicky I'm in a real tough sp-"

"Hello?"

Oh good god where was Vicky at this hour that there were like twelve other women - actually you shouldn't ask that. You already knew from the moment Missy picked up. And now Alice was on the line and you're pretty sure you're gonna get smote by an angel. The whole rotting cucumber thing is less funny now that you're talking to someone who might be able to turn you into one.

"Uhm... hello ma'am..."

"What business have you got with poor Vicky, there's plenty of other places in this city to call you fien-"

"Sugar... this is Cammy! Y'know, from the whole villain thing!"

Thank fuck Missy's standing up for you, you can't do it on your own.

"Oh yes, him! The little one!"

"Yeah!"

You resist the urge to yell into the phone, but you tap your foot angrily. You are not little anymore, you were little then because you were still _super malnourished_ and also barely legally qualifying as an adult. You resist the urge to tell them that as well.

"That's nice you remember me but I'm in a tough spot."

"Oh?"

"The cops found out I'm related to a murder victim and they're mad at me."

"Huh?"

You actually do bang your head on the payphone booth and give a strangled yell. 

God this entire thing is lowering your IQ, which is humorous considering that you rapidly fluctuate between being the smartest person alive, and a moron. Like you're always a moron, but at least sometimes you're a smart moron.

"Look the police chief is mad at me because my foster mum got killed and they've been trying to hunt me down since like.... forever. _Seriously_."

There's muffled talking on the other end.

"We'll see if we can do anything, now go call that other guy!" That's Missy, clearly she'd been given phone control again.

"I will, y'all have a nice night or whatever...."

 _"You too!" "Same to you!" "Will do big guy!" "Okay square!"_ Are only a few of the responses you get, and you're pretty sure all the gals were crowded around to answer that. At least it's comforting to know that there are twelve lesbians willing to throw hands for you.

**You call Russell next.**

"Hey dude!"

Thank fuck somebody's at home.

"Hi Russ, can y'help a guy out, I'm kind of in a lot of trouble right now..."

"What did you do?"

You give him the short story, leaving out a lot of things. Really all you tell him is the same thing you told the girls. You're related to a murder victim and you're the missing kid and now the cops are mad at you. _With a capital M._

"That's a you problem."

"Russ! No! Please! I'll let you use my car when I get back!"

"I have my own car now." He chuckles, and you're certain his tail is wagging in glee right now.

"What do I have to do to get your heeeelllp...." 

You hate begging, partly because you're sort of his boss, and partly because it's humiliating as fuck. But he cackles with unbridled joy when you do that.

"Hmm... let me think. Watch the movie."

There's a pause, and you run it over in your head, you going to jail, or an hour and a half of mild discomfort. You know what you must do.

"Okay fine! I'll watch the stupid movie!"

He's literally cheering, and he goes on like that for a while, before stopping and sighing happily. "Plus you can complain about it all you want, you just need to watch it."

That's fine, you think.

"Now, will you _help me?"_

"Sure, sure, what do you need pal?"

"I'm gonna need you to drive out here. Y'know, to Berkton."

"What the fuck are you doing out there?"

_**"I WAS BORN HERE AND MY CASE IS OUT HERE!"** _

You do not resist the urge to scream that time, partly because this is a _simple thing_ he should know after hearing you explain this stuff, and also you're really fucking cold, and tired, and you want to drink until you drown.

He goes silent for a long time, and you just sigh.

_"I'm sorry Russ."_

"I know."

_"I didn't mean to yell Russ."_

"I know."

_"I'm so tired."_

"Go sleep."

_"I can't."_

You both go back and forth like this until the time on the payphone runs out for Russell's call, and you then trudge back inside, and smoke on the mini balcony of your room. You're still tired. And everything hurts.


	10. POV - Miss Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back on chapter nine - Payphone - through the eyes of a familiar demoness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We really wanted to write Missy and Alice being soft on each other (also much of this morning was spent excitedly squeeing over the fact our mutual fav author noticed this like hiiii :DDDD) | Also yes Alice has white hair in this because blonde Alice is pretty and also for some other reasons :)

It's three in the morning and you couldn't care less. Why would you when you've got your girl at your side, and the two of you are enjoying the presence of like ten other lesbians. Alice is a bit overwhelmed, you think, mostly because she sticks to your side the entire time. You don't mind it because it means you can tell everyone who'll listen that _"that's my gal!"_

She gets all embarrassed when you do that, so you do it as often as you can.

Currently, the two of you are both giggling over your drinks of choice. Alice with a mimosa, and you with your usual favorite. _Vodka_. Alice tosses a lock of pale, white hair over her shoulder and you swoon all over again. She is so pretty, and so perfect. _You adore her._

You lean over to her and gently press a hand to her face, smiling softly when she leans into your touch. You're now very gently caressing her cheek. Her halo glows a little bit brighter, and you can't help but smile more.

One of the girls sitting next to you both is on the rotary phone with someone, while a group of three sitting on one of the couches is trying to convince everyone to play a card game. Most of the gals are just very politely ignoring them. You can hear the soft music playing on loop in the background. It's a sweet love ballad, sappy and romantic, and you adore it. _You're a bonafide sap._

"What happened?'

There's a pause, and you can vaguely hear a voice on the other end of the phone say something.

Vicky yawns and you remember not everyone is used to being awake at three, and that Vicky had to drive all the way up here herself, not to mention that she was at work earlier so in the past two days she's had ten hours of sleep, total. You eye of the phone suspiciously, and you make a phone gesture to Alice. She gently swats a hand at you, as if to tell you not to interrupt. You nod a little bit, at the very least you'll _wait_ to interrupt. 

"Be more specific. Did they find out you're a moron?" She rolls her eyes and sighs, leaning into the phone and nearly banging her head on the table. There's a beat pause, and she mumbles a soft 'mhm' before she almost drops the whole phone and distinctly yells "fuck!"

You and Alice are both eying her awkwardly, Alice giving her mimosa a timid sip, while twirling her hair into a coil around a finger. You, despite your best interests, and Alice's concerns, lean in.

"Heeeeey, who ya talkin' to?"

"Uh - uh nobody..." Vicky scoots on her barstool and she protectively holds the phone close.

This does not protect it as much as she'd hope, because you just reach out and stretch your arms to grab the phone. Alice is trying to convince you to let Vicky make her call, but you do not. After a good minute or so of struggling, you manage to grab the phone and you hold it to your ear.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" You're not personally upset by it being so early - _or late, if you want to be like that_ \- but you're mad that someone called at this hour.

"Yes ma'am....."

Wait that voice... it couldn't be, but you had to ask, just to be sure.

_"Cammy?"_

There's a very awkward silence, which of course, you recognize to be a very Cammy thing to do. Especially when talking to you. _(You tended to overwhelm him sometimes. With how outgoing you are.)_

"Cammy what happened?"

"Kinda sorta got found out. By the police chief in my hometown. **Hhhhhh.** "

You wince, while you don't know exactly what he means, it can't be good.

"I'll see what I can do for you, you square."

"I'm gonna call my other subordinate Russell later..."

 _ **Wait WHAT?!**_ He's got subordinates? He's in a position of power now? He hates people like that usually, so what gives? You spit out your drink rather unceremoniously. It only takes a second for you to get your bearings back, though. "Your _what?!"_

"Subordinate. Vicky's a secretary, not mine personally, but she's lower in power than me, and Russell works the press. I'm a reporter... or investigator... or detective, whatever you wanna call me really."

You pause for a split second, and you splutter and choke once again. _He's a reporter?_ He used to hate reporters, or at least dislike the general idea of reporters. He thought they were all uppity snobs, which was super hilarious coming from him.

Alice very gently pats you on the back a few times, taking the phone in her other hand, pinky raised in the most adorable dainty way.

You can no longer hear what Cam's saying, and so you have to just base the entire thing on what Alice says.

"Hello?"

There's a pause, likely Cam rambling her ear off.

"What business have you got with poor Vicky, there's plenty of other places in this city to call you fien-"

"Woah! Sugar... this is Cammy! Y'know, from the whole villain thing!"

There's a pause as Alice racks her brain to remember him, before she gasps and responds with, "Oh yes, him! The little one!"

"Yeah!" You are distinctly aware that Cammy is probably banging his head into whatever he can right now, based on that _'insult.'_

~~You learned pretty early on to not make fun of his stature.~~

"Oh?"

You're snapped back to reality with that, and now with how intently Alice is listening to him, he must be saying something important. You bristle a little bit because, why isn't he saying it to you? You were one of his closest confidants... you're a little miffed. But the flames of your ire quickly extinguish themselves when Alice turns to you and puts a hand over the phone so he can't hear.

"Missy, sweetheart, he says the police are angry at him because he's tied to a crime. He doesn't know what to do and he's worried he'll either have to talk about everything, or face being banned from reporting about it _\- and that could sink his_ _career."_ You pause, thinking, as the gears in your head spin, the rest of the place, or at least the ones nearby enough to have heard the phone call are all listening.

You take the phone.

"We'll see if we can do anything, now go call that other guy!" 

"I will, y'all have a nice night or whatever...." He sounds so exhausted, like he could sleep for three days and still be tired after that! **Must just be how reporter-ing goes.**

you hold the phone up to the women in the room, and they all respond, some of the ones lingering outside the doorway chime in as well. Various little well-wishes, including someone who is most certainly _**NOT YOU** _calling him a square _(that's your thing, and it makes you a little bit miffed again, but hey, it's funny enough you're not mad.)_ A couple of other gals had crowded around you and Al -Vicky being one of them - to make sure they were heard the loudest.

The moment you hang up, you set the phone on the table and go back to your drink, sighing softly. You've promised to help someone - _a very much not evil thing to do_ \- and you have no fucking idea how to do it right. Messing up could cost your best friend his job, or... quite possibly land him back in the slammer for refusal to assist as a witness. You're not sure if that's a real crime or anything, but it sounds weird enough that it just might be. You let your head drop on the table and Alice pats it affectionately.

 _You're spoiled by her,_ you think.

"I think it's very sweet, Missy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You chuckle up at her, and she adjusts her hat, and plays with her hair.

"Will you-"

"Will I help? Of course!"

You thank her no less than about a thousand times. She really didn't have to, in fact your question was pretty rhetorical, since you didn't expect an answer at all, but hot damn.

_**She really was quite a gal!** _


	11. Witness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think your health is getting worse, and having to confront your boss, all on your lonesome isn't making it any better. At least he has the decency to listen to you first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snake dad Snake dad Snake dad Snake (in all seriousness we're trying to very awkwardly write a dumb found family because we're such suckers for found family.)
> 
> Sidenote, Cam's spine isn't gonna get much better through the fic because he's dumb and he refuses to let people in so he can get help. I mean it won't get much worse either right? Q^Q

It's about seven in the morning, and nobody's arrived yet, so you have to get up, drag yourself out of bed - _ignoring the pain shooting up from your spine, and the fact it feels like your lungs are fucking stuffed with lead_ \- and go to work. You really don't want to, because even if you were totally healthy right now, this was the last thing on Earth you wanted.

The ride back to the crime scene is... too long. Mostly because it was silent, and all attempts at starting a conversation just died out instantly. All you want to do is crawl into a little hole and stay there forever.

Of course when you get there, you're apprehensive to leave the car, and so you have to force yourself up and into the house. Your entire body is shaking at this point, and he directs you to sit down with him at the table, which you comply with - _even though using your laser on him is a really enticing option._ You'd actually feel really badly about that, since he's actually been nicer to you than a lot of people have been.

"Jusst a few quesstionss..."

You gulp, really wishing that the gang had showed up in time to help - though you honestly had no idea what you event meant by help. You're pretty sure you just called in panic and wasted a few dimes. Fuck.

"Why have you been hiding sso long?"

"I uh... wasn't hiding I just... moved to the city and got a job. It wasn't intentional." _Okay that's a whole load of bullshit and you know it._

But he doesn't.

"The whole.... ssupervillain thing. Explain it, if you can."

You mumble for a moment or two, before pounding your chest and nodding.

"I'm always angry at everyone, so I uh... did that."

He nods and then he very gently lays his head on the table, either exhausted from getting less sleep than you - _which is worrying to say the least_ \- or because you make him so fucking tired all the time. You feel the need to apologize for that, even if that's not what's wrong.

"I'm trying to help you... that'ss why thiss casse iss sso important... don't you wonder who it wass?"

"What, so I can give them a Rambler convertible?" You sound a bit more angry than you should.

He looks up at you and sighs. "Did you really hate them that much, that you're not even a little bit angry at the killer?"

"You've gotten the other witness statements, they hated me more. Really I was just being fair." 

He sighs again, staring right at you - _or through you_ \- and he rubs his temples with his tail.

"Alright, I get it, you don't want clossure, but doessn't Jane?"

"Nope. Trust me I'd know."

And you would know, because she's told you personally that she doesn't know, or want to know who did it, or why. She's happiest just knowing that it happened and that the two of you got away. If only you could share that optimism. 

_You didn't get away._

He drops his head back onto the table and you wince because that time there was a thunk and it sounded bad.

"Boss y - yer gonna hurt yer head..."

"You don't get to tell me if I'm hurting mysself..."

A fair point, you've kind of been destroying yourself since literally forever, but it hurts no less knowing that. You're pretty sure if you don't dig your nails into your thighs and distract yourself with the pain, you'd cry. As long as it's silent though, that's okay. He can't see it, so it just needs to be silent.

"But boss..." there you go again, picking fights with people in authority positions, "I care about you hurting yourself."

"And I care about you!" He very accusatorily points his tail at you.

**"Fine!"**

You're both fighting now, but at least it's over something more minor... like who cares about the other more, and not your stupidity, you don't think you could handle fighting over that.

Part of this has been resolved, but he's still dead set on finding this guy, despite all of your attempts to just _"let it go, he's probably dead by now, it's been thirty years."_ God that snake is a stubborn motherfucker. You'd like it more in any other situation, but right now you despise it. At least you think you do, you're not entirely sure right now.

"Do you wanna talk to Rodney? He's got some information, plus he uh, he provided the picture."

"Ssure, when can we do that?"

"He'll close at about six tonight, if you wanna drive over."

"Ssoundss good kiddo."

You bloom at the praise and the fact he called you kiddo. Even if it was just him getting used to the fact you're a witness - technically. You're not really a witness.

_~~No matter how much you pretend.~~ _


	12. Cupid.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per your suggestion, you and your boss take a nice little trip to see Rodney again, and you're having a terrible time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do you see me as a father figure?" *dies*
> 
> Plum Note: my dum baby friend posted this too early

You want to go home and pretend none of this happened. Sure, you want to pretend the rest of the investigation never happened, but specifically right now at this very moment you wish you were anywhere but here. Mostly because they're flirting. This is supposed to be a serious case - _as much as you wish it weren't_ \- and they're flirting.

_You seethe._

The two of you were supposed to come in and ask questions but nooo... they had to be stupid and flirt with each other, and you're stuck as the third wheel - which wouldn't bother you as much if you were with anyone else. You feel kind of like getting sick right there. Not on purpose, no, but just because of the fact they were doing this. You've got nothing against either of them but romance is not your whole thing. At least, you don't like it as much as other people.

You only ever let yourself be romantic and sappy with your wife, and even then, romance movies made you gag.

She thought it was cute at least, the way you had to repeatedly avert your gaze and just how warm you got. You didn't blush in any noticeable way other than your face and entire body getting super warm. You very vehemently denied this, and she thought your very awkward response to "something so sweet" was adorable. She was the only person allowed to call you adorable in the entire world.

You actually allow yourself to fold your hands under your head and think about her more in depth. Tall, strong, perpetually sweet, and in spite of her acting career she was just as much a critic as you! She just couldn't ever talk about her opinions, so you were allowed to do it for her. And that was just one of the special honors she's given you. You care for and protect it, even now. It's how you honor her in return.

Apparently the two of them have stopped their flirting to stare at you and watch you, and it takes you a second to realize that. You swat your hands at them. They don't get to tell you anything, because they're the stupid ones being so... so open.

How can someone just be openly themselves? Openly happy and openly safe? You have to hide inside of each and every little lie you tell and secret you keep. It's dumb, and it hurts more than it helps, but it does help. _You're not ashamed of it._

"Sso... we have ssome quesstionss..."

"Yes! Let's get back on track!" You slap your hands on the table and they both look at you again.

"He wassn't thiss excited earlier today."

"Well I wasn't suffering through accidentally playing matchmaker earlier today." You glare at him and he shrugs it off.

Rodney makes a face of absolute shock and awe. Your boss does the same general thing, but they give each other a look as well. You pretend to gag.

"Oh hush," Rodney pretends to swat at you and he grins, "this isn't that weird right?"

"Well you're like my dad so of course I think this is weird." You lean back in your chair and put your feet on the table.

_They're both staring at you._

"What?"

"Do you see me as a father figure Kodak?"

You pause, begin to flail around helplessly, and then fall over flat on your back, legs still kicking rapidly. Everything is now twenty or so degrees warmer and you can actually hear yourself winding through tape and getting all awkward. Oh god oh fuck did you say that? Why is everything getting a blurry and doubled and why's it like you've got some really bad tunnel vision going on? Is it the stress? _It must be the stress._

"Oh my gossh, I think you killed him."

"He's just bad at emotions give him a second."

You very shakily stand up, pull the chair upright again and sit down very awkwardly, staring intently at the table. Your hat fell off when you fell over, but you don't notice. Instead you're preoccupied by the fact that he's right. And you hate it. He basically is your dad, having raised you more than your foster parents ever bothered to. And that's why you hate him flirting so much, not because you're afraid that you won't be his number one - _you've made peace with that_ \- but because people are kind of horrible, and he could get hurt.

But if there was anyone you might trust with a sliver of hope to not corrupt your dad, it would be this guy. Lispy, and dorky, and all around pretty chill - _unless you were lying to him that is._ He'd probably do all the dumb sappy stuff like dinner dates and all the mushy stuff that's in Missy's radio dramas. 

You only remember those because when you and Sedrina started to date you had to ask her for help. Granted every single date had to be disguised as her just getting kidnapped again. At least every time she put up with it - _though honestly she thought it was adorable and hilarious_ \- the two of you would watch a really bad movie in private together and she got to make fun of them as much as she wanted. Then she'd end up getting distracted by the desire to slap you with a pillow and the two of you would manage to ignore the entire movie and be surrounded by a layer of feathers on the floor.

You don't think about that one as much as the other dates. Mostly because that really irritated your lense and then there was the whole incident afterwards and... you can literally feel yourself sinking lower in your chair and heating up more. **Awful, horrible. You want to turn off your thoughts _very much please._**

The two of them are still staring at you, now that you're once again, returning to reality and you shift around in your seat miserably.

"Kodak... do you see me as a father figure?"

"Noooo... _yes_."

Rodney is absolutely ecstatic, smiling widely, your boss then turns to you.

"What about me?"

There's a pause. You're not gonna admit anything ever. You've made your entire life about keeping your secrets.

"Sure."

Oh fuck, that sure slipped right out through your mouth huh? Were you even thinking about that? You're embarrassed about it, at least. That's how you know you're not fucking crazy, or at least no crazier now than you were before this whole thing began. You bang your head on the table and groan as the two of them are excitedly rambling about how you're their son now and how they'll protect you. _Their hearts are in the right place but you're still super fucking uncomfortable._

"Anywhoozits, aren't we supposed to be working on a case?"

"Oh, yess we are!" Your boss laughs a little bit, slapping his face with his tail.

"I'll answer as best I can."

"Thanks." You sigh and nod, managing to bring your head up off the table. It feels like it's been packed with cotton and you can't hear a whole lot through it. Or through the very uncomfortable haze which is clouding your vision.

You try to ignore it, and you manage to for the first few questions, but then things start turning weird colours and your vision gets even more blurry, and the doubled vision becomes quadrupled vision. You stand up, almost pitch over then and there, but instead you crouch down on the floor, tuck your head under the rest of your body - _you're quite flexible_ \- and you stay there until things stop looking like they've been painted in sunset colours. 

Once it's over you stand up and return to your seat, refusing to even acknowledge what just happened. If you don't mention it, then they won't either. _You hope at least._

"Alright.... can you uh..... remind me what you already asked? If it's not too much trouble..."

"It's mostly just stuff that you've asked before kiddo... why don't you sit down."

"I am."

"On the floor. So if that uh... swaying happens again you don't fall too far."

You shake your head. No you're not gonna sit on the floor like some delinquent. You're not a delinquent anymore.

At least they actually just both let you rest while your boss questions Rodney. You're eternally grateful.

_To both of them._


	13. You go home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why are you back here again, after all this time? Why now, now that you're supposed to be getting better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is supposed to mirror chapter one. You know how it is :)
> 
> (TW: Eyes, Mouths, Night Terrors - Kind of unreality?? Warning for it just in case)
> 
> (P.S: we have a few oneshots we wanna write eventually once the story wraps up that way we can explain some stuff - like why and how Cammy used to bite his hands with 'no mouth')

_You wake up in your bed, sitting up and holding your tiny little wrists. You're actually okay this time, all black and white and normal. You're still tiny, and cold, and you shiver. You get up, out of bed, and begin to sneak around, on your hands and knees. You know how to run your house in the dark, like an obstacle course._

_You've done this so many times you're almost positive you could do it in your sleep. But it's usually safer to be actually awake, even if it's in the dark. The front door is locked, and you need to find the key, but that's okay, because you know where Mary keeps her keyring. All you have to do is get the keyring from the kitchen counter, and you're free. And of course... avoid John. He's usually up at night, but he always either leaves or returns to sleep after a while of prowling around._

_You stay low to the ground, in case you're caught you can pretend you fell and garner the smallest amount of pity manageable for them to give you. At least then they can pretend you're just being stupid and can send you off to bed with only minor bruising around your wrists from where they grab you, and on your back from where they shove you into your room. You ignore the residual stinging from the semi-fresh ones that they gave you last week, because those won't matter if this works._

_You sneak into the upper hall, crawl down the stairs, and then wedge yourself under the coffee table to wait. It only takes a moment for John to stomp out of his room and begin to pace around the house. He'll be leaving soon, that or going back to bed. You don't care which he does, as long as he does it._

_Of course, he returns to his room, and stomps back up the stairs, you then clamber out from under the table, and sneak into the kitchen, ignoring the dining room altogether, and you grab the keyring. You don't take any food because if she noticed the food disappearing as well as her keyring, then she'd know for good. Besides you can always put the keyring back if you must, but you'd eat whatever you got your hands on if given half a chance._

_You slink back to the front door, hold the key up to the lock, and the keyring disappears into thin air, and the lock seems to undergo a sort of mitosis into two locks, each needing their own specific key. You sigh inwardly, afraid of what would come next. Mary would wake up now. And even if she didn't ever physically leave her room - unlike John who left every once and a while -_ she might just show up in another room, even if she shouldn't. _You'd be confused as to how she does this, but she has eyes everywhere. And they really are everywhere. The groups of them on the living room walls are all closed, but you step back from the door, closer to the coffee table, and you pretend to trip, laying down on the floor._

_When the eyes open, they spot you on the floor and then ignore you straight off, trying to find something more interesting. You need to wait until they close again to get up and flee the area. You rush to the kitchen, almost enter, but you actually do see her, knitting at the table there. She hasn't seen you, so you instead duck under the table in the dining room and hide._

_You're so tired, and so hungry, but you really want to get out more than you want to not starve, hell starving in and of itself might be a way out, just not a good one. You look at your little hands, and you notice that under your gloves, they've gone grey, having paled when the locks changed. You scratch at the backs of your hands and pinch as hard as you can, digging your nails into your skin until you can smell the blood. All coppery and metallic, the smell hurts because it's so strong._

_She vanishes after a while, and reappears somewhere else, and so you enter the kitchen, take a sharp turn into the laundry room, and hunt for the key. It's hidden at the bottom of the clothing hamper, and you grab it. The key tingles in your hand._ You need to go faster if you want out.

 _You find the next key in the upstairs bathroom you and Jane use._ It's in the waste bin. _Going back to the door, the locks turn from two to four, and your keys are gone again._

_They then go from four to eight, and then eight to sixteen. Sixteen to thirty two. Thirty two to sixty four._

_Eventually the door is covered in them, and you're running from room to room grabbing as many keys as you can hold. John's coming out of his room every few minutes, and you can barely ever hide in time. Mary appears for only short seconds before she seems to teleport into another room. The eyes don't exactly open anymore, but the mouths on the walls chatter endlessly if you make too much noise. You have to stay quiet. You can do that._

_You do it all the time._

_Gripping the keys tightly, the whole entire armful of them, you decide just this once, to let yourself race down the stairs, keeping yourself on the balls of your feet to use the energy stored there to propel yourself closer and to the door. The keys burn your hands, but you can't even see the extent of the damage, because you've been paling every time the locks split, and now, you've gone entirely see through. You hear rapid footsteps behind you, and the sound of an apparition making itself known, but you press the keys to their locks and..._

_…_ _The door is now a giant lock. There is no giant key._

_Long twisty arms reach out from the darkness behind you, and grab your arms, your legs, around your neck -_ choking you, hurting you, suffocating you _\- and they pull you back, away from the door, away from freedom. You grab at whatever you can hold onto, but there is no such luck._

_You are dragged into the darkness._

You wake up in a cold sweat, having drenched your nightclothes and your own - _freakishly sharp_ \- teeth are chattering. You get out of bed, barely crawl into the tiled bathroom of the hotel in time, and collapse on the floor.


	14. Regroup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kodak O' Donnell, professional demon slayer. Not the most glamourous title you'd ever owned, but you really want to get your hands on this one now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Kodak actually have a heart, who knows? Not us haha! :)
> 
> Anyways, Kodak plz stop trying to kill people thank u.

"Took y'all long enough." You cross your arms and glare at the group, but there's not a lot of ire. You can't quite blame them, even if you _want_ to. At the very least they showed up, even if they brought some folks you didn't really want to see.

Sure, the two members of the Society for the Shellacking of Souper Boris were there, but so was the gangly wolf himself. And you don't even want to get started on Alice - _although you did actually expect her to come, even though you hoped she wouldn't_ \- but the biggest surprise was the fact she brought Bendy. She apparently didn't even need to convince him to come, just the promise of _'politely thwarting the police'_ was enough.

Polite thwarting, yeah. Not like you're gonna kill someone ~~else~~ or anything.

"I'm sooo sorry that I had to bike out here...." Vicky's accusatory tone and her poutiness draws your attention to her.

"Russ has a car now, you could have carpooled." You snap back at her.

"Russ's car smells like smoked fish and it's gross."

You sigh desperately. Oh dear god why do you always gravitate towards the morons. Either you are also secretly a moron - _something most likely true, but something you hate to imagine_ \- or you're a moron magnet. Both probably, actually. Your wife as a little stupid sometimes, and so are you.

"Look, we're not gonna purposefully fuck with the cops, these ones are nice, overworked and impassive sometimes - _yes, but not outright malicious._ We just can't let them figure this stuff out." You had to get this through to them, that you don't want to hurt the cops, just kind of be nuisances, but politely. 

"Why not?" Bendy looked right at you, or through you.

_You're getting cold._

"Because I'm still tied to the case, witness or not-"

"You're no witness Cameraman."

_Oh god why is everything starting to slow down, why are you slivering so much?_

"Oh yeah?"

"You know what you did."

You sway on your feet and lock your gaze onto that no good nasty little imp. You try to will your laser to activate - to blow him to smithereens, but there's the sound of machinery failing and you can't even get it to prepare a blast. Your teeth chatter, louder this time, than they were last night.

You're not gonna break eye contact though, glaring at the little imp with bright white horns. He snorts at you and then looks away. You promptly move into a cross-legged sit on the floor, dipping your head and holding it in your hands. Your hands are freezing and shaking, so you breathe into them, but that only makes it slightly better.

"Bendy, y - you didn't have to do that to him..." Boris pointed out, and for once you actually appreciate the mutt.

"Well why not?"

"I - It's real rude of you... even the uh, the other ones would agree."

You look up enough to see Bendy turn to your friends - _all four of them_ \- are glaring at him. Brute's growling at him, and Russell's hissing, so you feel a bit better, knowing they care about you. Vicky's got the stink eye going at him, and you're pretty sure if you don't intervene she'll stab him. Or thwack him on the head with the mop she brought. The idea of him getting mop-thwacked is very good though, and you will forever long to hear the _'ka-thwap'_ of it.

"Look, he's not a supervillain anymore but he still did bad stuff! And even I - _as an actual demon_ \- can be upset about it!"

"What did he do that's so bad? Aside from getting taller than all of us, that is." Missy crossed her twisty arms and glowered at you.

"Brute's not tallest anymore...?"

"No, sorry big guy...." You chuckle, looking up at Brute, who is indeed somewhat disappointed by that.

You're secretly loving the fact you are the tallest now, mainly because there are no more short jokes. Nobody can make them at your expense anyways, and you have an entire artillery worth of jokes to make directed at them. Well, none at Brute because he's been absolutely pleasant and refused to make short jokes at you, so you'll treat him with the same dignity.

"You're all gonna think I'm just being weird about this, but he totally gives off _'I've got a body count'_ vibes."

"Bendy he helped during the war, and so did I, we've both got... those." Alice twists a lock of hair in her fingers, and you mourn.

For her, for the fact she's just like you, feeling guilty and bad, and has nightmares and fears and... you mourn for her.

"Not like that Al, like he's done it before. Like he definitely gives off the vibe that he straight up committed this crime."

"Why? You got something against me? Huh?"

"Camera boy you're so bad at lying. I can tell you've done some awful things."

You're terrified but you won't back down, you can't back down.

"And what if I did?"

"Then I'd turn you in. I'm evil, but not heartless."

_Your chest hurts._

"And I'm not heartless either."

"Bullshit."

Before you can really even register what you're doing, you dive at him and everything goes in slow motion because somebody's stopped you and now your hands are around their neck and everyone's pulling you away. You're ready to spit fire and throw things at people and you're very ironically reminded of your childhood - _stabbing people and throwing fits._ Your chest feels like it's being crushed under some sort of incredibly heavy weight, but you can't stop.

Brute is holding you now, and even though you might be able to overpower him, you return to your normal behavior of going slack in his grip and letting him hold you like a little ragdoll. You completely slump over and he just carries you protectively. You feel like glass, close to shattering and it feels really bad. You're also distinctly aware you're crying.

Bendy is... reasonably upset, as you just tried to strangle Boris - _something you never even thought you'd do as a supervillain_ \- and he wants to call this all off and just turn you in. Alice is wary about helping, as is Boris himself, but they're also equally as wary about turning you in, because they've got morals. And thank fuck for that.

"Look, even if he didn't do it - _which I totally think he did_ \- he tried to kill Boris! Boris! God! Boris is like an overgrown puppy," he holds up a finger when Missy tries to interject that Brute's more deserving of that role, "look, I'm sure Camera boy is nice when you get to know him but he almost killed my buddy. Even as a demon I can't tolerate that."

"Well, you can always leave. Nobody's gonna stop you." Missy's got her arms crossed.

"Oh, so since I'm wary of an actual attempted murderer I'm the bad guy?!"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Bendy gives her an absolute death glare and his hands shake. You're pretty sure he wants to kill her, and if he tries you'll rip his little head off. _You want to rip his head off._

"Why the hell are you just... okay with this!?" He spun on Boris and Alice next.

"W - well Bendy... he's actually okay most of the time..." Boris is actually defending you, which makes your head hurt even more.

"It's true... we went to his wedding and it was very sweet."

You almost weep tears of joy because they're both being so nice to you and you were so terrible to them before. You heave an absolutely miserable sigh, and then slump forward in Brute's arms. He tolerates it. And the mention of your wedding, yes, they both not only attended, but you personally invited them. 

"Wait someone married him?" His ire is momentarily forgotten to curiosity.

"Yes."

"Didn't ask you."

"You're talking about _my wife_. You asked me indirectly." You practically snarl at him.

He rolls his eyes.

"And she died while I was overseas. So I'd appreciate if you don't talk about her. You never knew her."

That earns a pause from him, and both Alice and Boris hang their heads. _They attended that too._

You had to wear your wedding tux, because it was the only nice clothes you owned.

"Is that why you're so angry?" He's returned to being a smug little shithead, and you glare.

"I've got trauma besides that but sure." You put on your best deadpanned and exhausted voice, and make yourself sound as weary as you can.

He ignores you.

You're either going to get arrested, kill him, or die trying.

And you realize you don't care which one it is.


	15. Wedding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You remember getting married as clearly as you remember your name. You love your wife, you love her so much you might think she stole your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took us 15 chapters to make him get dumb and giggly and flustered but we did it :D we can all go home now! :D
> 
> Not really we have more planned mwahahaha >:D

You're nervous, and antsy, and you really had no idea weddings could do that to a man. You're pretty sure you're sweating bullets, and you re-adjust your tie, for the thirteenth time in the past thirty minutes.

"Oh don't say you're getting cold feet." Boris chuckles and you distinctly feel your face heat up.

"Haha... nothing like that it's just-"

He sits down on a bench, and invites you to join him. It takes a second for you to work up the courage, but you do.

"I can't believe she's gonna marry me."

"Why?"

"I'll corrupt her. I'm _gonna_ make her bad, and she don't deserve that." You gesture with your hands, feeling your claws flex under your gloves.

You hang your head a bit, rubbing right around your lense, where the tension is the most noticeable, and painful. You really can't believe she even said yes, let alone to you - and your barely existent, not at all worthy of her ring. You exhale and tap your foot on the ground, smoothing out your already ironed tuxedo. You'd like to think you look okay.

"You're not gonna make her bad."

"How do you know that?"

"You were the one to say that Missy wouldn't make Alice bad..." He points at you and gives a doggy grin.

"Well, that's _different_ , Missy ain't half as bad as I am, even if she likes to think she is. She ain't got a laser, and she ain't got half as many grudges as I do."

"So? You're trying to get better, ain'tcha?"

You shift your weight from one leg to another as you try to think of the appropriate way to say _'yes but I'm not getting better fast enough'_ without upsetting him.

"Look, we'll talk later, you shouldn't worry like this, and on yer' wedding no less. We can go for a walk, since we got another hour to kill before the ceremony? Kay'?"

"Yeah... sure."

And you do, though you're still feeling pretty feverish, and you're choosing to listen to him talk, rather than say much else.

* * *

Alice is there, helping you do up your dress, and you stare into the mirror, taking in deep breaths and soft sighs. You keep running your fingers through your hair, and she has to stop to smooth it out after.

"Nervous?"

"Oh very... it's nothing wrong with him... I'm just surprised he liked me at all."

"Oh, why's that sugar?"

"An actress and a known film critic... not exactly the best pair."

Alice hemmed and hawed as she helped you to then put on your veil and she gestures to the mirror, letting you look at yourself. You don't look half bad.

"Well, he won't shut up about you - _always goes on and on about how lucky he is_. He saw Boris on the street once and since he was on lunch break and Boris wasn't busy he got real into it. Talked all about you for fifteen minutes. Golly you'd have thought you hung the stars and painted the moon."

You can see yourself getting flustered, and you lace your fingers together. You can imagine a bouquet in your hands.

"He did?"

"Yes, and he's done it to me too. He thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to him."

You smile at yourself in the mirror.

"Oh, you need to hide!"

"Hide?"

"They're outside they'll see you in the window!"

You remember the whole story about bad luck if the husband sees his wife in her wedding outfit, and you very awkwardly rushed behind the room divider. You're holding your dress in your hands and you try to make sure there's nothing that could be seen from the window.

* * *

"Huh."

"What do you mean huh?"

Boris then points to the window wherein you both could see Alice shaking a fist at you, and you chuckle.

"Right, old tale about that, that's what it is, is it not?"

You give a soft sigh and shake your head while chuckling. Boris looks at you, confused, but not mentioning anything. He just shrugs it off and waves at Alice while she opens the window to shout at you.

"You were supposed to stay in your dressing room, sir!"

"I was taking him out, no need to yell." Boris wags a finger at her as she huffs.

"We'll head back in now, tell Sedrina I bet she looks beautiful."

She pauses, as does Boris, not for the same reasons though. Boris is more surprised you're willing to just turn around and go back inside over something simple, and Alice was more shocked by your goofy romantic declaration of love. You weren't exactly known for those. 

"Will do, now go on!" Alice is very likely waving her hands at Boris now, trying to make him follow your lead. 

From the heavy breathing at your side, and the sound of the window creaking shut, you're almost certain he did.

"Aren't we supposed to keep our suits nice?" You tease him a little bit, and snicker into a hand.

"Oh hush..."

* * *

"Well, that could have gone better, don't you think?"

"He thinks I'm beautiful..."

You're pretty sure you're swooning, and you smooth out your dress, despite there being no reason to at all.

"He thinks you're a blessing, and so much other mushy stuff even I'd get a cavity telling you all of it."

You blush a bit more and giggle, cupping your cheek with a hand. Alice hands you your flowers, and you take them graciously. She smiles up at you, and nods once.

"You're doing great sweetpea."

"Thank you... so much." 

"Aw shucks, you're welcome... I'll be right there beside you."

You nod, gently offering her a hug, which she accepts and she gently pats you on the back. It's a little bit funny, because you're not tall by any standards - _especially not when standing next to your almost husband_ \- but you do crouch down to make the hug easier.

"I know..."

* * *

You're standing stock still, facing the door, Boris and Alice are already in their positions - _the wedding itself is very small, and only a few people were invited, let alone came_ \- and you're not exactly sure when the last time you breathed was, but your lungs sure hurt.

Then she walks in.

You're certain, without a shadow of a doubt in your mind, that you're marrying an angel. She seems just as nervous as you, and that somewhat helps you relax, especially as you're standing in front of her and lifting her veil. Her eyes are all watery and you're pretty sure you could cry too. But you don't, you smother that back down for a second, as the two of you breathe in unison, before preparing your vows.

This was one of the parts you were most excited about, because you had the perfect vows. _At least you thought they were good._

"And through the thick of the night, we shall stay together, for the light we seek in the world resides in each of us, and together we can push back the darkness. Through misery and pain we shall stay together, to heal each others hurts, and to become better, whole people, and to become a better unity of people."

As she finishes her vows _\- which are actually so good you almost cry based on them alone -_ you prepare for yours. You pull out your little placards, and both Alice and Boris groan. At the very least Sedrina tries to shush Alice, but you know she's also pretty wary, as part of your reputation involved you never shutting up when you needed to. You take your cards, and unfold them. They've all been stuck together, and they read _ **'Hell yeah.'**_

That turns the groaning into hysterical fits of giggling, and you are very proud of yourself. You fold them back up and slip them back into your suit's breast pocket. She extends her arms, and you know what she means, so you put your hands into hers, which fit perfectly when you both lace your fingers together.

And then you hear the words you've been waiting for.

"You may kiss the bride."

You dip her and she laughs, and you gently press your head against hers, and when she kisses you gently, you smile. You're married now. You've got a wife. You exhale softly and hold her slightly more protectively. You're certain you'd die for her, and you know you will eventually.

Everyone does eventually.


	16. Penance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really wish you knew when to shut up, especially when you keep saying things that only get you in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone: Are you a toon?  
> Kodak: I have ink, yes.  
> Someone: Is it your ink?  
> Kodak: It is ink and it is in my possession yes.
> 
> \---  
> Seriously though we both had the idea he was built because like... toons probably aren't made for murder and also don't typically have that sort of ability so we got creative with it and Plummy (the idea faucet she is) decided "hey what if he was literally built to help during WWI but it was over by the time he was finished so he just got used a general death ray by the mad scientist who built him and then due to how long it took, lost all his funding."

You're not angry anymore, at least you don't think you are, since you're not actively going for anyone's throats. Brute made sure of that, holding you in a very aggressive hug until you were finally calm enough to not kill anyone on sight. Honestly, you forgot your laser, which was kind of a good thing, since you _never want to use it again._

"Look, he's a pedantic little shit but we care about him." Missy pleads.

"And? Like that's gonna keep him from getting riled up again and actually killing someone?"

"I ain't gonna do nothin." You snap at him before you get the chance to rethink that.

"Oh yeah? Why not now, after you already attacked someone?"

"Cuz killing people's fucked up, I never did it if I could help it."

Actually that's kind of true, so not really a lie. You only ever killed two people by choice, and at that point you had to for your own safety - _plus you weren't even old enough to drive, so you were a literal child._ Granted that might make it worse, a child killing people - _and not always in the best, nicest ways._

You glare at him.

"Mhm, explain why the reports said the lady's been singed, an why the house was too."

You balk, because of course you and your dumb fucking stupid laser you keep forgetting about always ruins everything for you. Yes okay, maybe you burnt her to a crisp, but she wasn't rock solid... you could still poke her and stuff. 

"Thought so." The little imp takes your silence as confession.

You snarl, but ultimately hang your head. _Because he's right._ This is exactly that, even though you hate it. Even though you wish it wasn't.

"Wait.... Cammy really?"

You can't even bring yourself to meet Missy's eyes, knowing they've probably gone all soft and gentle, like she's talking to some sort of rabid animal that's been backed into a corner. Brute loosens his grip on you, just in case you decide to do something dumb, and painful, and reckless. You're surprised by the lack of faith. 

_But you deserve nothing else._

So you take it.

"You wouldn't...."

"I'm sorry."

And you are. The things you've done weigh on you heavy and cold, and your hands feel like they've been pricked with thousands of needles.

"I was right!"

You sigh and just nod a little bit, feeling a tad too emotional and mopey to do anything else.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alice leaned in, though she didn't get too close.

"Why should I?"

"Well you'd feel better for one thing, and I'm an angel so it might be actually healing..." she smiled at you, and you looked at her.

"Fine, everyone, y'gotta come back to my hotel room."

"Why?"

"Cus I'd feel more comfortable talking bout' it there, and also cus' I said so."

They at least don't push it, and go back to the hotel with you. You sit down on your bed, and everyone either sits on the floor or on the one chair that every goddamn hotel has to have. Vicky's got her dumb mop propped against a wall, and she's laying all flopped out on the floor. Russ stole the chair and is upside down in it.

"Okay so yes I actually did do it for good fucking reasons!"

"Liiike?"

"John's a bastard but he was at work, Mary ignored me, general shit you'd have seen on the news by now."

They listen, and you rant about those two, and then go back further to the terrible circumstances of your birth and everything else. You're getting into it, really into it, finally being able to actually tell a story that you've wanted to for years, and now that you have a captive audience you won't leave anything out.

"An I wasn't even born. Like nobody in their right mind would keep a child with... _with my abilities_ around. It's too risky, too dangerous, too stupid of them. That's why I was built instead."

"Built? Like a robot?" Russell leans in to listen more, tail wagging and ears twitching.

"Like a _walking talking death ray,_ more like." You scowl, flexing your claws and holding down the growl that you desperately want to make. "Boss was a prick, constantly."

"He was always cold an' distant and super sciencey, and never treated me like the kid I was. Always just _'shoot this, do that, don't touch'_ and well. I got sick of it fast. Told him off with all the eleven words I knew how to say - _and I didn't say none of them well._ Hah! He hated that, tried to make me do some dumb shit with my laser and... he got cocky and forget to tell me which target to lock onto. It wasn't really my fault."

You didn't even realize you were sounding kind of like a madman yourself, gesturing wildly and letting your claws flex out fully so they were ripping up your gloves. _They were nice gloves._

"So you killed him." Bendy scowls at you, and you look down at him.

"I was effectively two, cut me some slack."

**_"That makes it worse what the fuck?!"_ **

You shrug and put your head in your hand, which hurts because ow ow ow you're poking yourself with your claws and that's not fun at all what the fuck??? It's so pokey and sharp why oh why were you built with these???

"And Mary died... how?" Missy's speaking in a clipped formal way which honestly shocks you, right... she's afraid. _Everyone is._

"Haha... I uh... got some sleepin pills into her food and she was out like a light. Haha... then all I had to do was drag her outside n fry her like a fish. She's still out there I bet."

"Dude, you are so fucked up." Bendy makes a face at you.

"Maybe, but my wife thought I was hot so everything cancels out in the end."

He's judging you and you know it. You also know that you're insufferably smug all the time and so you really play it up to bother him. The little imp just puts his head in his hands and sighs deeply and long sufferingly.

Everyone else is wary but also they at least can acknowledge you're literally living in the only way you know how to, and for being built - _who the fuck builds a whole being for the sole purpose of murder_ \- you're doing actually okay. You've only got a two person body count - _barring the war_ \- and that's impressively low! Alice just sighs and her halo kind of droops. You shrug and begin to pick at your hands through your already ruined gloves, only stopping when you feel a furry paw on your back.

Russ has gotten up and come to sit next to you. You didn't even notice.

"Oh, hey."

"Hey pal... how about we don't hurt ourselves none? You don't like it when I do that..."

You pause, and are about to retort with something really stupid and dumb and rude just to bother him, but you look at everyone else and are just... you can sense their concern in the way they're breathing even. There's a lump in your throat and you can barely swallow. You never thought they'd all be that worried about _someone like you._ You go to say something, and everyone looks at you, hell you can even see it in Bendy.

You're crushed under the weight of their love for you, and before you realize what's even happening, there's thick tears pouring from your lense like water from a faucet. They care about you, and the knowledge that they care now, when you're kind of at your second worst _\- when you were at your first is debatable, you're sure everyone has a different idea of what the worst is_ \- means a whole lot more than anything else possibly could right now.

You'll do better for them, you'll be better for them, you promised once and you hate making promises, but god if you can't at least promise to try, what can you do?

Not a whole lot.

So you have to at least try.

It can't hurt too bad.

_Right?_


	17. Re-Entry Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You could really use a day off, much to your displeasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John Mulaney reference yes yes. Also Kodak does sleepwalk/sleeptalk it's one of our mutual headcanons that he also tends to go on lengthy rants in his sleep under his breath. He's gotten a bit better with sleepwalking, but he does indeed talk in his sleep still.  
> (And his claws being stuck out like that is related to his emotions, not that he'd ever acknowledge it.)

You've got to go to work today, although you are _very_ annoyed by that. Everyone also stayed over until an ungodly hour at night and you're kind of running on fumes. You hardly bother to check if you're presentable before heading to the site, where your boss greets you with immense worry. He can tell you've slept almost none, and so the moment you both are inside, he gets you a cup of coffee. You don't like coffee, but you accept it graciously.

The warmth of the cup feels nice in your hands.

"Sso... when'ss the lasst time you've sslept well?"

You have to pause to count on your fingers, claws clicking together since they won't retract anymore _for some reason._ He's not judging you, you don't think, but if he was, you could at least partially believe it was out of concern.

"Thhhhreeee days ago....ish."

"What about eating?"

"Uhhhhh."

"Drinking?"

"Technically I am drinking right now."

"You haven't actually drank it, you're just holding it."

You chuckle nervously, tapping a foot under your chair. He sighs softly and rubs his head with his tail again.

"Look I get it, you're probably bussy with all your other reporter sstuff and not jusst thiss but... take care of yoursself."

"Or?"

"Or I come over to your housse perssonally to beat you over the head until you actually learn to do it yoursself."

You actually snicker at that, very much finding the mental image of this tiny little garden snake cop - _who keeps losing his own badge, much to your amusement_ \- breaking into your house to thwack you over the head with his tail while yelling at you to go to sleep. You'll sleep when you're dead. The food thing is just... you're a pretty low appetite guy, especially with the whole being built to originally not need food but that being a thing that ol' boss fucked up too.

"A cop... breaking and entering... into someone else's house... for petty reasons." 

"It'ss not petty if my sson'ss being sstupid."

You'd normally shout at the thought you're stupid, because even if you are, and you mention it every five fucking seconds, you don't like it when other people do it. Some sort of inferiority complex you've got, probably mixed with a superiority complex. Except you don't. Not at him. Because one, you actually kind of respect him, and he called you son - _which is shocking enough in its own right to blow you away._

Although you really shouldn't be that surprised, he's been considering you a kid of his for a while now.

"I'm thirty eight, I don't need a dad."

"And I'm fourty ssix, I could usse a sson. Mine left the nesst a while back."

"So that's what that's about."

It made sense honestly, it really did. If his kid left the nest then of course he'd want another one, to fill that little space in his heart after that. He wouldn't really want you - _you don't think._ I mean, you don't even want yourself, so how could anyone else?

"Now now… don't get it twissted kid..."

You snort at him and put your head on the table, leaving it there and pressing your hands into the coffee mug out of sheer need to hold them there and keep warm.

"Look, I get it, that ssounded terrible, and given everything going on, it probably wass. However, you're sstill my kid now, becausse I could have picked anyone and I wanted to pick you sspecifically. You've been adopted and you get no choice."

"I can literally fake my own death."

"There iss nothing that can stop me. Not even your repeated bullsshit."

You actually laugh. You manage to lift your head off the table just enough to stare at him confusedly. No doubt your expression would be hysterical in and of itself. At the very least, they won't figure out what's going on and the group will be able to help meddle and you can just go home and pretend nothing happened other than rediscovering your sister and gaining new family members. Even if it was against your will on both accounts.

He lets you sit there and drink the coffee - _it's not as good without alcohol in it_ \- and he makes you a slice of toast. You must eat it, so you oblige. Your stomach twists uncomfortably because even though it hurt to go hungry you were more uncomfortable having eaten actually, it turns out.

"Do you think taking a day or two off my benefit you?"

"Huh?"

"It'ss an honesst quesstion, do you think it would be good to take a day or two off?"

"I mean probably but what's that got to do with-"

"Then it'ss ssettled, you're taking the next two dayss off. No arguing becausse I've made up my mind."

You pause. In all honesty you kind of hoped for two or so days to just pretend you don't exist and that everything that happened actually didn't, but you know you'll crumble without a proper routine. Hell it's one of the things you did that infuriated Brute and Missy way back when - _whenever there was nobody to fight and nothing to plan for you just kind of moped_ \- aside from the sleeptalking but you couldn't quite control that. Though you apparently screamed a lot and swore in your sleep.

At least you're not sleepwalking anymore, that one got pretty dangerous for you pretty quick. Apparently once you walked right into a wall and almost broke everything in your _"dumb metal head"_ as Missy put it. You're aware that if you sleep now at least, you won't need to down the road for a while. That probably shouldn't be your first thought, but hey, you're not exactly super duper okay in the brain-space. You're working on it.

"I'll drive you back to the hotel later today, but jusst take it eassy okay?"

"Okay." You say.

~~Like a liar.~~


	18. A/N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is one of the thing we were both most passionate about but due to real life circumstances we will both be orphaning this work, but leaving it up for people to reread.

Sorry about this guys, we both were really hoping to not do this, but trying to construct this story (it got way longer than either of us expected) has become more of a chore than anything else and we were both super unenthusiastic about working on each chapter, to the point we were both weary about even waking up in the morning because it meant we'd need to update.

We are very sorry about this, but thank you all for making this very well worth it.

Best wishes to all you lovely people out there, and remember we care about all of you.

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)


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